


Don't Go Downstairs

by TickleBones



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: A bit of animal abuse, Angst ahead, But really I have a lot of gore planned for this, Drowning, M/M, Max is upset, Mental Abuse, Mentions of Sex, Originally an RP, Orphan!Max, Physical Abuse, Pretty well detailed too, Will update tags as more chapters are posted, a bit of romance, be careful, cursing, dadniel, lots of gore, remastered for reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14832114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TickleBones/pseuds/TickleBones
Summary: Max tries to force David to adopt him via underhanded forgery. Everything is set up. All the papers are finished and sent off, all the documents are filled out, all the social workers have been fooled. Nothing can go wrong.It's a shame that his handwriting is so shitty. One might even think that 'David' looks like 'Daniel'.





	1. In which Max is ready to be adopted.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was created with the help of a friend named Fritz Myles. He's great.

Exhausted. That was the word to describe how he felt at the moment. Thoroughly and utterly exhausted. Was there any more paperwork to fill out, any more papers to forge, any more social workers to threaten? Max didn’t think so but he wasn’t sure. He resolved to throw his foster dad downstairs a dirty stare as an extra precaution.

Who knew that forging adoption papers was so tiring? Padding over to the joint bathroom, he looked at himself in the only mirror, surprised at how haggard he looked. The two dark circles resting under his bright blue eyes almost looked like makeup. Quickly scrubbing his face to make sure that his foster sister hadn’t put makeup on his face when he fell asleep and satisfied when his hands came up clean, Max nodded to himself. It was time. He was going to leave the hellhole and go to another, slightly better hellhole. At least in that hellhole somebody smiled.

Just to prove his point further, he grimaced at that thought. Sure, David’s happiness got stupid and idiotic at times, but what the fuck was he supposed to do about it? It was better than here at any rate. “God, out of all the places to dump me, you could have dumped me in literally any other home.” Max said to the mirror, daring it to fight back. 

When his reflection just stared angrily at him, the 11 year old sighed and picked up his toothbrush. Wet. Somebody had used it before him. “Fucking…” He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at Carmen that no, red was  _ his _ toothbrush, not hers, and she could fuck right off if she dared stick it in her dirty mouth again. But, he needed to stay calm. If he went off the rails, Carmen would cry and Rich might think twice about letting him go to David’s.

Whom he didn’t care about!

He just didn’t didn’t care about him less than he didn’t care about here.

Stupid David, acting all caring and shit.

Sticking the toothbrush in his admittedly small amount of belongings, he picked up the only form of entertainment he had - an old game boy - and made his way downstairs, a small smirk on his face. He was finally getting out. Finally! It had taken so long since he had first gotten David’s information. Social security number, address, phone number… once he had it was just a matter of playing the game, getting the workers to visit David on surprise visits, forging David’s signature that Max had learned how to copy at camp. It took a full year from last summer to get through all that bureaucratic bullshit, but here he was. Safe. Nothing could stop him now. Not even Rich.

Rich was a pouchy looking man with mean little eyes. He looked like the kind of guy who would get drunk and then purposefully cause fights for the thrill of it. Unfortunately the person he usually fought was his wife or Max. Carmen was good at hiding from him. As a general rule, Max tried not to anger Rich but it was so hard not to gloat. He was getting out. With the biggest grin he could plaster on his face, Max walked into the living room and sat down in the little alcove that smelled like cat pee. He could ignore it for the look that was coming onto Rich’s face, the same look that always emerged on Rich’s face whenever Max came into view.

“Hey, Rich,” He injected as much derisiveness into his voice as he could. “Have you called CPS yet?”

“No, and call me dad.” The flat, usual response. Max frowned. Just this once he wanted to rile Rich up instead of calm him down.

Did he dare? Max decided in this instance, he did. “Fuck no.” As Carmen poked her head into the living room fearfully, Rich turned his head to level a hateful glare at Max. “You can’t keep me here forever. I’ve legally been adopted, and there’s nothing you can do about it. CPS is probably on its way now.”

Suddenly Rich threw his head back and laughed, a cruel, unsettling event. Calming down a little bit, he wiped a tear from his eye and said, “I know you’ve been trying to slip them into the mailbox. I’ve been taking them out. Right here.” And he waved Max’s carefully created files and forgeries.

Eyes widening, any pretense of mischievous glee left Max’s face. “What?!” He dashed up, leaving his bags behind him as he made a wild beeline for Rich’s large frame. “Give those back, you son of a bitch!” Only too late did he realize his mistake as he felt himself get picked up by his hood.

Of course Rich’s breath smelled like alcohol, but there was a nasty undertone of rotting food included in the punch. Max nearly keeled over from the smell itself. “Say it again.” As Max stayed silent, he was shaken up and down. “Say it!”

Quietly, Max squeaked out, “Give those back?”

Another barking laugh from Rich and Max was suddenly and painfully on the ground. No bruises hopefully. “You’ve got spunk.” His face dropped. “I’ve always hated spunk. You’re just a pain in my side.”

Wincing as a voluntary reaction, Max looked up as the hulking figure sat back down, faced away from him. He couldn’t believe it. Everything ruined. Just when he was so confident too. Why did Max ever think that he could escape this? He would grow up hated and he would continue to age, growing more hateful at the world. A vision of him sitting down in a sofa, staring at a TV with a bottle in his hand burned itself into Max’s mind. Turning into Rich. The only better fate would be death, and frankly that was sounding pretty good right about now. 

‘No.’ He said to himself, trying to come up with some sort of plan. ‘Think Max, think! What could you do to continue this process. Everything is filled out, you just need to convince Rich. Convince. Rich.’ And Rich’s previous words came back to him.

“Just a pain in your side, huh?” Asked Max, trying to keep his voice level. “Well then, shouldn’t that be more of a reason to call the CPS? You could get rid of me for forever!”

“No. You bring in money, kid, and you know it.” Max thought that the foster care system needed a change, but he also realistically knew that nobody would foster a child if they didn’t get something out of it. Foster child support, the bane of his existence.

He had to convince him. “Listen, do you really want to try fucking with me? I can break so much of your shit that the money wouldn’t even matter.” He hoped the belligerent tone would show Rich that he meant business.

“I would break you first.” Max didn’t need convincing for the threat.

“I can break the TV.”

Magic. Pure magic. Rich’s eyes lit up like a flame as he once again got up to deal with the problem child. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would! And the fridge too!” As Rich’s fist drew back for a hit, Max feigned bravery. “You don’t want to hit me, Rich. Not now. Because if you hit me, I’m going to make good on my promise. No more beer, no more TV. Try it!” He hoped that this would be enough.

Rich still looked dangerously close to hitting him, but he lowered his fist at least. He seemed to struggle with himself, debating whether to keep Max here against his will just to spite the boy or to get to dump the little terror on somebody else. A full three minutes passed, the two staring at each other. Finally Rich’s stare turned baleful, and he picked up the adoption papers. “I’m going to call this person.” He stated, and Max had to physically hold himself to keep him from jumping with joy. “Not the CPS, mind you, but this person who you have listed.”

Well, not a complete win, but a win nonetheless! Turning around to perform a fistbump to himself, Rich looked at the papers silently. Then, pulling a phone book toward himself, he flipped through the pages, looking for a number. This heavily confused Max.

“Hey, what the hell, it’s written right there.”

“I’m not believing anything you wrote down other than this guy’s name. The CPS doesn’t even check on us anymore, it’ll be okay to disappear you.” Max hated how that sounded. “Go to your room to wait.”

“You mean my tiny fucking close-”

Rich’s hard stare drove Max from the room with all his stuff. Sighing he went back to trying to read what the kid had written. Max’s shitty handwriting was nearly impossible to read. The guy’s last name was obviously Greene, but what of his first name? A D and an A were all Rich could make out. The last letter could possibly be an L, but Rich wasn’t sure. Flipping to the G’s, he went through multiple people, trying to find the right person. A D, an A, and an L at the end.

Choosing a name, he dialed the number in. “Hey, is this Daniel Greene? Yeah, you have a kid.”

* * *

Daniel was busy from the moment he had woken up. Dressing in his usual white for work, he picked up his presentations laptop and got in his white van. Yes, his van was apparently a little scary, he had heard from the students, but he really tried to make it accommodating. What could be more accommodating than a clean vehicle? He had had a few kids ask why a psychology professor needed a big white van, but he claimed it was used for different reasons each time. Only once had he told the students what it was really used for and they had taken it as a joke.

With a twist of his wrist, the van started and he backed out of his driveway and headed to the college. Classes took forever that day, even by Professor Greene’s standards, and it was a relief when he finally got back home.

Relax. He needed to relax. He needed to relax like a druggie needs opioids. Throwing his laptop on the counter of his small kitchen, he grabbed a key from his keychain and headed for the basement.

The door was beginning to unlock when he heard his phone, which he had left on the table, ring. Sighing dramatically, Daniel walked over to the phone and picked it up. “Hello?” A stunned pause. “A child, you say? Needs to be picked up today? Are you sure?” Making a face but still keeping his voice pleasant, Daniel nodded in agreement to whatever this guy had to say. “Alrighty then! Let me just get a notepad out… Alright, 308 Fairweather Drive in… wow, that’s pretty far. Be there in about an hour.” The line went dead.

Looking at the door he was so desperate to get into before, Daniel felt no urge to climb down those steps. Something much more interesting was happening. “So I’m a father now.” 


	2. In which Daniel adopts a child.

Daniel’s nose wrinkled at the look of this house. Shabby. Disgusting. Impure. He sat in his van, staring at the building. Once upon a time it could have been a pretty home, but the light blue siding looked old and bleached and the white trim was flaking off to reveal rotten wood underneath. The windows facing him were obscured heavily by grime and he was certain that the blinds were pulled shut inside. A fence separated the property from the street in a startling comparison of brown grass to green. It was almost poetic. True, in this part of Calais nothing looked good, but this building especially seemed more destitute than any that surrounded it. Daniel idly wondered whether or not kids dared each other to go up and get candy from this building during Halloween.

Stepping out into the waning evening light, he picked up the sliver of paper that he had written the address on. Sure enough, this was the place. “A kid named Max…” He knew muttering in public rarely improved his social standing, but he could have sworn that he knew that name from somewhere. It had been bugging him the entire drive over.

As he struggled to find the origin of the name, he began the walk to the house. The cracked pavement quietly echoed each step he took with each perfect white shoe, and if there was a passerby they would have claimed a hush fell over the cul-de-sac, interrupted only by the quiet tapping of a small knife against his belt.

The peace was shattered by the rush of angry paws and the skitter of a metal chain. A massive dog, at least 150 pounds by Daniel’s estimate, threw itself at the fence only to get choked by the collar connecting it to the ground. Snarling, it drew itself up again, straining against its chain and barking the entire time. The sound gave Daniel a headache, but he also felt somewhat bad for the poor thing. He always felt worse for animals than he did for men. Shrugging slightly, Daniel opened the gate and went in, heading for the peeling door.

Cigarette smoke was abundant at the door, leading an unsavory smell to be around for long periods of time. A broken pot sat next to the door and a large wasp’s nest was in the corner of the awning. Doing his best to stay far away from the nest, he knocked on the door, a sharp one-two tap, and waited, hands clasped behind him. While he waited, he fingered the band on his wrist-watch, explored his own hands, twisting them fitfully behind his back. He was desperate to get going. What if a neighbor knocked on his door? He would not have time to tidy. Of course he kept his house locked, but what if they broke in? What if they were the police? He almost broke a sweat.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the door opened, revealing a tall man wearing beer-stained clothes. This guy looked like he had a 5-o’clock shadow 24/7 and that he was as grumpy as someone who stayed awake twice as long. Dark circles surrounded his eyes and the sneer he wore on his face could rival Daniel’s. Currently this man’s focus wasn’t on Daniel, it was on the dog, still barking madly. “Hey!” He yelled, pushing Daniel aside. “You goddamn mutt, shut up!” Delivering a swift kick to the now whimpering creature, he walked back up to an impassionate Daniel, the sneer still present. “Sorry ‘bout that. My daughter wanted the beast, but now she’s scared of it! I can’t believe I spent all that money on a stupid, fuckin’... Well.” Putting on an obviously strained smile, he opened the door wider, inviting Daniel in. “Come on in.”

“It would be my pleasure!” Of course the charming smile was on his face, the relaxed eyes supposed to be communicating total calm. The ability to put anybody at ease was a specialty of his. As he stepped further inside, he just about ran back out due to how much worse it was on the inside. Bottles were everywhere in an impressive display of hoarding. “I see you’re a collector.” He said, keeping the cheer in his voice yet still heavily judging this man as he stepped around the literal piles of trash.

That seemed to be the right thing to say. “Yes, finally, somebody else. My wife calls it ‘a mess’ but honestly, what do women know? She should just do what women are good for, am I right?” This man winked at Daniel, something that Daniel was highly uncomfortable with. “How do you keep your woman under control?”

Daniel always hated these parts of conversations. “No woman for me, uh… Rich, right? I’m single and have been for a while”

“No woman?” He leaned forward and pushed Daniel against a wall roughly. “Say, you ain’t no queer, are you?”

“No, no, of course not. Just young.” His face actually did betray him with beads of sweat gathering at the fringe of his hair, but Daniel was good at lying. Yet another of his skills he had honed over the years. He slipped under Rich’s arm in a smooth controlled motion, showing that while he was passive he was still in control of the situation.

Rich stared at him, chewing on his lower lip. A silence stretched for five seconds too long, and Rich finally said, “Alright then.” Walking over to the chairs, he knocked the bottles out of one of them and took his customary position on the couch, indicating that Daniel should take a seat.

After some inane formalities and the repulsion of his gag reflex, Daniel leaned forward on his hand. “So. Tell me about Max. What’s he like?”

He was completely unsurprised to see Rich’s eyes narrow. “The worst goddamn gremlin I’ve ever had to deal with, but I’d guess you’d know that huh? I can’t even discipline him right because he moves around too much. I’m glad you have to have him now.” He put down the beer he was holding on the crowded table, leaning forward as well to glare at Daniel. “We need to talk about how the adoption is going to work.”

“Certainly.”

“It’s not legal.”

This caused Daniel to jerk back a little bit. So maybe a sex-trafficker? He hadn’t pegged Rich to be this kind of man. “How so?” 

Rich pulled out the adoption papers. “These are all official, but I’m not going to send them off. I get about $600 each month for the shit, and if the adoption papers go through then that money stops flowing in.”   


An eyebrow rose above Daniel’s face, surprised that he would ask for this. “So you’re saying that I take Max illegally so you can keep the money that the state sends you.” As Rich nodded, Daniel twisted his head to the side to get rid of the crick in his neck. He had no idea why everybody looked so uncomfortable whenever he did that. “Why would I accept that deal? Sounds like I get nothing out of it.” He was genuinely curious, although he wasn’t interested in the money involved. Wanting to see why Rich was trying to force this child on Daniel was much more interesting.

“He filled out the adoption papers himself, so he knows you somehow, though I swear to god how escapes me. The number one rule of Max is that Max never does anything he doesn’t want to. Headstrong little fucker. If he filled them out, then he not only knows you but likes you. I’m hoping that you like him too and will take him out of the kindness of your heart.”

Daniel could appreciate how blunt this man was. Very few ever were around him, usually for good reason, but here he was, asking Daniel to take in a kid with no gain and only potential losses. “It’d be interesting.” He mused aloud. Interest always took priority over anything, even if it would curb his hobby. How would Max grow up with him? “Interesting indeed….” Nibbling on his knuckle a little bit, Daniel weighed the pros and cons. A kid was a big undertaking but if he was mistreated here it would be easy for little things to please or satisfy him. And on the other hand, what if Daniel gave the kid the world and then shattered it to pieces? How would Max react? The thought was delicious, a tantalizing reprise from his usual ways to get thrills. To act like a good father and then to destroy everything.

The scent of this idea was overpowering and before Daniel could think twice, he heard his own voice go. “I’d love to be Max’s father. I don’t need anything for it, it’d be my pleasure to take him under my wing.”

Rich’s face, strained during Daniel’s silence, lightened considerably. “Great! I’ll get him down now.” Turning around in the chair, he yelled up the stairs. “Max! Get your ass downstairs, Daniel’s here!”

A new voice joined in, younger and impudent, a voice that Daniel knew so closely as it had replayed over and over again when he was in the hospital, a voice that made Daniel sit up straight so fast that his spine popped, creating a cracking sound. 

“His name’s David, not Dan-” The same eyes that had glared at him last summer were now staring down, surprised and with, Daniel noted with pride, just a little bit of fear in them. A flower crown made up of dandelions was held limply in one hand, forgotten.

“Hello, Ma-” The flower crown hit Daniel in the face as Max backed away up the stairs, shouting about the ‘fucking cultist’. Interesting indeed. As he sat and watched Max screaming, a grim sort of happiness flooded Daniel’s soul. A child. A living being. A completely blank slate.  _ Tabula rasa _ . A creature that could be changed to think how Daniel thought, that could eventually accept what Daniel accepted, to become a small version of Daniel. ‘But’, he thought to himself, watching Max get slapped and picked up by his hoodie, ‘That wouldn’t be very interesting now would it? I want a complete wildcard, something that not even he himself will know how he turns out.’

Rich deposited Max at Daniel’s feet with a grunt, moving to sit back down and leaving Daniel and Max with a semblance of privacy. He got out of the chair and squatted down to Max’s level, trying to make himself less intimidating in a failed attempt at connecting with the youth. “Come on now, Max. You know me.” 

“Yeah, I see you all the time in my nightmares.” His spit landed on Daniel’s face, who wiped it off with a barely contained growl of anger. “There is no way I am going with you, you fucking maniac!”

Daniel could feel Rich staring, surprised at Max’s swift reaction to the man. Perhaps willing to go back on their deal? He could not let that happen. Standing up and wiping the spit off of his face, Daniel looked at Rich, forced a smile, and said, “I’ll still take him. He’ll be safe with me.”

Without much care, Rich shrugged. “Alright, man, he’s all yours. That’s all Max’s stuff. As long as I get the money, I’m happy.”

A quick, easy smile, relaxed and content despite the panicking child next to him, graced Daniel’s face. “This certainly will make me happy.” Turning one eye to Max, he said in deadly calm, “Grab your things, Max. We’re headed home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rich: What do you use to get up in the morning?  
> Daniel: Oh you know.... childhood mental trauma.
> 
> Fritz Myles helped write this. He's just a gem!  
> Criticisms are appreciated as always. Thanks for reading!


	3. In which Max talks to Daniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks Fritz Myles for helping make this!

Max hadn’t known how to make a flower crown. In fact he had never even picked a flower before, as he never had the time, opportunity, or want to do so. David had tried to show him how last summer but he didn’t care and ignored the instructions, leaving him reluctantly begging for instructions off of Carmen. Not that she was the first thing he jumped to. No, Max tried to make his own flower crown, but after struggling for half an hour he finally gave up.

When he was tying the flowers together, he imagined how the encounter would go. David would walk in, grow disgusted at Rich, and eventually, kindly, take Max away. Only then would Max present the crown, something that he knew David would cherish. Sure, he would see it, but Max would never openly acknowledge it until they were alone. A present for his new dad. A promise for a new future. A flip of the shitty, dirty side of the coin toss that he had been stuck on.

That was what he imagined, and yes, Max thought as he stared out the window, at least one of those predictions came true. The coin did flip, but the other side wasn’t clean. It was covered with blood and fraught with danger.

Max brooded on these thoughts as the scenery sped past, trying to simultaneously ignore the pristine man sitting next to him and keep an eye on him at the same time. He had tried to put as much space between him and Daniel as he could, but he was still within arm’s reach, and the knife could be pulled from Daniel’s belt in less than a second.

Eyes widening, Max realized that if he moved closer, he could probably pull the knife out if he caught Daniel by surprise. Then he could demand that the killer drop him off at David’s. But then questions would go unanswered. ‘And really,’ An intrusive thought told him. ‘Do you think you could win a fight against Daniel, even when he is distracted?’

Max wasn’t sure. But oh, how his fingers itched to feel the cool handle firm in his hand. His resolve to kill was weak, but he would have the power. He would be safe, somewhat. Right now he was stuck with a cultist.

The trees turned thicker and the forest closed around the road as night fell, the only lights being the van’s headlights. Maine wasn’t quite renown for its greenery, but forests were common and impenetrable. Max was sure that if Daniel so wished, they could pull over right now and Max would get-

‘Don’t think about that, don’t think about that.’ He repeated mentally, his mantra for the ride. Then, another thought, clear as day and as liberating as a key to a prisoner. ‘If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it by now.’ Slowly Max ungrit his teeth, trying to relax a bit. If he was safe, then theoretically he could question Daniel . Breathing quickly, Max tried to appear as calm and composed as he could, something he didn’t usually have to struggle at.

“Why are you smiling?” This was a safe question, something that could easily be explained and lead to other routes in the conversation, like why Max was still alive and why Daniel agreed to take him.

Daniel popped his neck and Max cringed. That was so goddamn creepy. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

An invitation for Max’s actual views was an invitation for death. Max ignored the question and asked another one of his own. “What purpose would a cultist even have for a kid?”

Falling silent, Daniel put one finger to his chin, thinking. “Well, cultists can have lots of uses for kids. Initiates, scouts,” He paused, throwing a piercing stare Max’s way. “...Sacrifices.” A shiver climbed up Max’s spine and his eyes darted towards the knife again as Daniel started to laugh lightly. “Relax. I’m not a cultist.”

“Bullshit.” The word slipped out before Max could censor himself and a primal fear gripped him as the corners of Daniel’s mouth turned down. An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two in the car. Max wondered whether or not he could jump out of a car moving at 70 miles per hour and survive.

With a sigh, Daniel plastered the smile back onto his face. “Watch the language, kiddo.” Max opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and settled for folding his arms over his chest. “At Camp Campbell, yeah, I was pretending to be one. But I’m not actually.”

Eyes flicking from each passing tree to Daniel’s face, Max wanted to be feisty. He wanted to shout that Daniel nearly killed people and that he wouldn’t fool him. Instead, he looked out the window, relaxing a bit. If it was a joke, if the entire thing at Camp Campbell was a stupid, shitty joke, then Max was safe. “Yeah, right. You almost killed people, you psychopath.”

“Not a psychopath either.” Cracking a smirk, Daniel turned to look at Max for a second. “Really now, Max, you sure do make a lot of assumptions about people.”

Max felt like he was treading on dangerous ground, like it would swallow him up any second. He was unbalanced, and all his tools of verbal fighting were thrown into question. “I-I don’t! You- Are you kid- What-” Blowing air out of his mouth, he tried to calm himself down, then said deliberately. “Then why the fuck did you pull a knife on Dolph? And make kool-aid with rat poison in it? And wear stupid clothes? You look and act like a cultist-slash-psychopath.”

“Well,” Daniel started, looking back to the black road. “I was pretending to be a cultist that one time because it was different. It was interesting. A different method, you know?”

He was almost afraid to ask. “A different method for what?” Max hated how much that sounded like a pitiful squeak.

“Oh Max, do I really have to spell it out? Come on, you’re a bright kid.” Daniel pretended that everything was fine, but it wasn’t. Was this a confession to murder? Why was he smiling the entire goddamn time? He had Max trapped in a puzzle of what-if’s, of confusion, of fear, and there was no exit in sight.

“That doesn’t disprove the psychopath issue!” He nearly shouted, desperate to distance himself from this possible-killer.

“Hmm, you’re right. How to phrase this…” Hunching over the steering wheel, Daniel yawned and tilted his head to one side, deep in thought. “Have you ever wanted to do bad things, Max?”

“What, you mean like stealing or whatever?”

Daniel seemed amused, a sly grin creeping up on his face. “Sure, we’ll go with that. In my experience, everybody has wanted to do bad things before. Things that you know are bad, right? You know what I’m talking about.”

A brief painful image of him holding his foster mother’s secret money jar imposed itself upon Max’s thoughts. He had hesitated, wondering whether or not he should plunge his hand in and grab as much as he could before placing it back under the loose floorboard, a guilty feeling plaguing his conscience. “So?”

“You see, Max, people always want to do something mean or bad, and often they know that it will have far-reaching consequences. They’re afraid of those consequences, but not really of their conscience. A conscience can be ignored at a whim.” Chuckling slightly, Daniel leaned back in his seat, relaxing his grip on the steering wheel to only one hand, using the other to gesture. “The thing that really sets me apart is that I’m not afraid of those consequences. And it’s been immensely fun. Something new and interesting each week, right? I see something to, using your example, steal and I do so. I feel like doing it, so I do.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Oh, come on now.” Waving a dismissive hand, Daniel laughed just a tad and popped his neck again. “Don’t tell me you’ve never held a hammer and gone ‘Boy, I wonder what sound this would make against somebody else’s skull.’ Everyone’s had that thought. They’ve just never acted on it. The only difference between you and me, Max,” He said, turning one eye towards him. “Is that I’ve acted on it. Other than that, you and I are similar in every single way. I don’t have any mental disorder making me act like this. I do it because I want to. Because it’s fun.”

Max tensed as Daniel reached a hand over and ruffled his hair. Any second he would be dead. Any second. As the hand moved away, Max tried to push himself further away though his back was already up against the door. A silence fell, the only sound being the soft hum of the engine and the road passing under the van. A few minutes passed, Max feeling his next question bubbling up to the tip of his tongue, but afraid to ask.

Finally he couldn’t wait any longer. “How do I know that you won’t kill me when we get to wherever we’re going?”

Daniel winked. “I guess you don’t. But!” He said quickly, interrupting Max’s oncoming panic. “I promise I won’t. Does that make you feel better?”

Max wanted to yell no, that this only heightened his fear, but if he acted poorly then maybe Daniel would kill him. He had no guarantee that he wouldn’t anyways. Throwing a furtive glance towards Daniel, he gently pulled the door handle. Locked. Likely Daniel had put the child safety lock on the door before he got in. ‘Damn.’ Another glance towards Daniel’s belt. If he could just grab the knife…

“Ah ah ah, don’t even think about it.” A hand was placed over the belt, and a quick glance assured that Daniel was displeased. “Really, Max, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe with me.” A quick pause. “And also if you grab the knife and we get into a fight, the van veers off the road and both of us die. You’re fine, Max. Just relax.”

Once again squirming back to his corner, Max put his head in his hands for a second. God, he was hungry and thirsty. Tired too. He wanted to fall asleep, to eat or drink anything, but he was not asking for a single damn item from Daniel and like hell was he dropping his guard. It looked like he wouldn’t be dropping his guard for a long time.

Giving Max a sympathetic smile, Daniel reached over to the radio and turned it on to some shitty 80’s station. Even though the music washed over Max, he couldn’t concentrate on it, the feeling of helplessness striking him through the sound. He felt like he was losing air. Even if he tried to call the police, they wouldn’t believe him. Daniel could sweet talk his way out of anything, and really, they wouldn’t listen to some 11 year old. He just had to wait until they got closer and closer to his doom. “So, uh, when are we getting there?” Max silently added that he needed to know what his window of time was to create a plan.

“In about 5 minutes.” Daniel said cheerfully, pausing in his humming rendition of  _ Synchronicity _ to turn onto a bumpy dirt road.

The trees seemed thicker than ever here and no moonlight even hit the road except in small patches. Max’s panic grew worse, accentuated by each pothole and dip in the path. How to get out, how to get out…. If he ran immediately when the car door opened, Daniel would catch him easily. Daniel would probably expect him to try to run that night, so that was a no go. ‘I’ll wait two days and then leave. Two days…’

Finally after a few minutes on the road, a house came into view. It wasn’t at all what Max would have expected Daniel’s house to be like. The expectation was of a white, pristine, modern house. What he saw was a cabin, dark and ominous that loomed over the road. Not much detail could be made out in the darkness, but it seemed to be swallowing the van. It seemed wild, frightening. It threw any thought of possible safety out the window and left civilization behind.

When the van stopped, Daniel stepped out first, stood up and stretched, smiling. Pulling open Max’s door, he gestured to the building. “Welcome home, Max. I hope life will be…. comfortable here.”

Max felt a shiver trickle down his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synchronicity by The Police: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HsKz1FBPTxc
> 
> Max: Hey, so you won't kill me right?  
> Daniel: No, of course not!  
> Daniel: ...Probably.
> 
> Hey so I spent all day writing this and I haven't really proofread it. Sorry for any glaring errors!
> 
> As always, constructive criticisms are welcome and wanted! Say your piece!


	4. In which Max explorers the house.

The inside of the house matched Daniel’s personality more than the outside would have suggested, with a small clean entrance that led into a small clean kitchen. In fact it looked like nobody lived there. Not a speck of dust touched the windows or the whirling ceiling fan, and as Daniel pulled open the door to the fridge, Max saw it was mostly empty. The kitchen’s countertops glistened with a ghostly pale light. It was unsettling how clean it was. No stains, no messes, nothing was even on the countertop. It looked like it came from out of a magazine for kitchen appliances. As Max looked out the window to the dark forest, he thought that maybe he would prefer the forest to this place.

“Alright Max, what do you want to eat? I’ve got…” Daniel paused, a small frown overcoming his usual plastered-on smile. He rummaged around the fridge a bit, then pulled open a cupboard. “Sandwiches it looks like. With no cheese. Or meat. I have peanut butter. And some honey.” Grumbling to himself, Daniel pulled the three objects out and began to make two sandwiches. “The guest rooms are on the top floor. Choose between one and that’ll be yours.”

A pause stretched in the kitchen, with Max standing in the doorway while Daniel silently made some poor excuse for a dinner. “So that’s it?”

Daniel’s eyes flicked to the side and then refocused down. “I didn’t know you were coming, so I didn’t go shopping-”

A rush of anger flooded through Max. “Not the sandwich, you idiot!” As Daniel looked up at him, Max sorely wished he could quiet the flood of words coming from his mouth, but once started he didn’t stop. “That’s it? You adopt me on a whim, and you don’t even want to fucking know about how I feel? About what’s going on? You don’t even want to show me around the house? Even Rich did that! Even! Rich!”

Daniel stared, a slice of bread hanging forgotten in his hand. Max looked at him, breathing hard, then turned around and headed into the impeccably clean living room, shoulders hunched. “Parenting is going to eat you alive.” Max hissed, trying to ignore the white couch sitting in the living room that looked like it had never been used before.

Without turning his head to look around the house, he stomped up the polished wooden staircase behind the too-perfect living room and next to the backdoor. A simple white hallway stretched before Max with two white doors on the left and a single door down at the end. Taking a chance, he opened the first door to reveal a bare rectangular room with nothing but a bed, a chest of drawers, and a nightstand. Grimacing at the white bedspread, he closed this door and continued down the hallway.

The next door was a bathroom outfitted with the bare necessities. Max looked at the room, scoffed, and headed to the final door. Opening this door, he looked with a slight amount of surprise at the interesting architecture of this room. The room itself was bare and boring, with the same furnishings as the first room he had seen. The only difference was that the room was octogonal. It smelled newly painted and Max figured that this would be the furthest from Daniel he could get in the house. After opening the window in case he would need a speedy escape, Max threw his body onto the bed, staring hard at the ceiling, mentally creating a list of tasks he had to complete.

Number one was obvious. Explore the house. If Daniel was around, Max would be watched and redirected from areas that would indict the psycho in anything. The best solution seemed to fake sleep and venture out late in the night. True, Max was tired, but he needed to do this for his own safety. He had stayed up later planning escape routes out of Camp Campbell, this would be easy. Number two would be to find some incriminating evidence and document it. Number three would be the escape, something that he would accomplish after figuring out Daniel’s schedule. If Max could give himself the longest amount of time to get ahead of Daniel, then he could jump directly into number four, find a police station, turn Daniel in, and get adopted by the right person.

Smiling at the plan, Max flicked off the light and crawled under the covers, surprised at how quickly his eyes started to pull shut. For five minutes he struggled to stay awake, pretending to sleep but aching to actually fall into a dreamless state.

Suddenly a click echoed throughout the room, jolting Max from half-awake to full wakefulness combined with a shot of fear. Was it a gun? How did he not hear the door open? The feeling of a presence standing behind him permeated throughout the room. His heart beat a fearful staccato against his chest as he struggled to keep his breathing regular and deep. No light was hitting his face, so Daniel must have turned off the outside hall light. Why?

As quickly as he had come, he had gone. The door clicked shut with almost no sound of Daniel leaving, and Max was once more alone. Nevertheless, he waited another ten minutes, eyes staring wide and scared in the dark. Finally sitting up, eyes adjusted to the darkness, Max looked over onto the nightstand to see a sandwich, neatly cut into four triangles.

A loud peal from his stomach filled the quiet and Max winced slightly. He had last eaten lunch, and lunch at Rich’s was made up of watered down fruit juice and anything that wasn’t rotten in the fridge. He didn’t want to take Daniel’s food, but in reality Max knew that he needed energy, so, with a world-weary sigh, he pulled the sandwich close to him and made short work of it. It was sickeningly sweet, the honey overpowering the salty taste of the peanut butter.

After he finished forcing the sandwich down his throat, he layed back down, trying to stay awake for another hour. It passed in agonizing silence as Max could hear nothing but his own deep breathing. Nobody was perfect and it was only a matter of time before Daniel would slip up and make some noise. Finally he heard the open and close of a door downstairs. This was his chance.

Max got out of bed and padded over to the door. First he put his eye to the keyhole and, once he saw it was clear, he slowly opened it, wincing as it creaked. “How the fuck…” he whispered, still wondering how Daniel managed to enter the room so quietly.

Placing his weight on the stairs, he moved cautiously, listening for any creaks. Max made his way downstairs, shuffling his feet to avoid bumping into anything in the dark. Turning his eye to the dark backdoor, he placed a hand on it to figure out the security level of the house. There was a deadbolt which could easily be slid back, and the knob itself which seemed to be locked. Mentally cursing, he whispered, “You really don’t want me to leave, do you?” Nothing of interest caught his eye in the living room except for a single door that when opened proved to be a closet. 

Max was getting frustrated. He knew that Daniel was bad. He had practically told him so in the car, so why was it so hard to find some kind of evidence? A quick scan of the kitchen only revealed basic items, such as measuring cups and kitchen knives, which were definitely not the ones used during camp. Even the entrance room was clean of anything incriminating.

The thought that he had missed something made him double back to the living room. A rather obvious one came to light and Max lightly smacked his head for missing it. A branch hallway connected to the living room and situated underneath the staircase led off to a dark abyss that Max couldn’t see down, though his eyes were used to the darkness. 

With one hand on the wall and the other placed out in front, Max began to walk down the hallway, scared that one hand might find a man in white, waiting. He was running out of places the man could sleep after all. 

Almost immediately he felt a door. Holding his breath, Max creaked open the door only to see a glint of steel reflected in the moonlight.

He made a stifled shriek and collapsed against the wall, sharply cracking his skull against a lightswitch on the way down. Throwing his hand towards it, he flicked it up the sudden flash blinding him, causing him to blink rapidly to regain his vision.

Knives. The glint had been knives. There wasn’t just a few either. An entire wall was dedicated to them, of all shapes and sizes. Max even saw the one that Daniel almost used at camp. Small ones that could fit in a shirt sleeve were placed next to those so big they could almost be called a sword. Each one looked to be sharpened to a deadly point.

Max’s air was stolen from him. There were so many that he didn’t even think about counting them, but if he had to guess there might be almost one or two hundred in this room alone. How many had actually been used? The curvy one at the top had almost been used on Dolph, but how many of these had tasted blood before and were cleaned to erase the evidence?

Belatedly, Max realized that this was Daniel’s bedroom, as spartan as the rest of the home with the exception of the knife displays and a computer desk sitting in the corner of the room. Daniel wasn’t in the immaculately made-up bed, and Max was at a loss as to where the killer could be. If not in his bedroom at night, nor in the kitchen or the living room, where? 

After his heart slowed down a bit, he stepped towards the desk and the multiple monitors sitting on it. The largest one was dark, but the other four were turned on showing a video feed to the outside of the house. Cameras. Of course.

Stepping backwards like he was moving away from a dangerous animal, Max turned off the light and closed the door. Now worried as to where Daniel was and completely unable to see in the dark, Max continued down the hallway, encountering a door at the very end. A few quick pulls and twists of the knob told Max that this door was thoroughly locked. He ran through a mental checklist. If David wasn’t in his room or anywhere in the rest of the house, then he must be behind that door. If that’s the case, why didn’t he tell Max to go away or some variation of it?

‘Or maybe he’s planning something worse.’ Max thought of numerous reasons why somebody would keep their target in complete ignorance. It would be easier to control that person and to eventually execute them. 

He felt helpless and like he was floundering in an ocean. Everywhere he turned, Daniel was plotting something to get him killed and Max would be damned if he didn’t try to stop it. Going back into Daniel’s room was not something that Max wanted to do, but as he looked at the wall of knives Max knew that he needed protection. 

He picked one up, an ornate dagger with a cat emblem emblazoned on the hilt. It felt awkward and heavy, and Max tried to put it back without too much obvious difference. The second one was a tiny pen-knife, so small that Max was certain it wouldn’t actually hurt Daniel if he needed it. Aware that time was running out, he finally picked up one that was completely unremarkable in every single way. If there was any knife that Daniel could accidentally miss, it would be that one. True, the hilt was heavy and slow in Max’s hand, and when he tried to slash at the air it hurt his wrist, but Max felt safer and more secure knowing that he had some kind of protection, no matter how useless it actually was.

Peeking around the corner of the bedroom, Max tiptoed back upstairs and placed the knife under his pillow within easy reach. With a satisfied nod Max climbed back into bed and fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted from the day’s events.

It felt like he had just barely closed his eyes when he felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back and forth roughly and talking to him at the same time. Max couldn’t understand what the voice was saying and after waiting for it to go away, he smacked the hand away and sat up, blinking blurry eyes at the golden light from the barely-risen sun. “Fuck  _ off _ , Ri-”

“Now now, Max. That’s no way to talk to your… guardian, is it?” The words cut through Max’s haze like a knife as he registered just who he had told to fuck off. Daniel’s face erased any trace of sleepiness that Max had left over, and he scooted over to the far side of the bed.

Daniel kept the smile on his face but popped his neck. “Max.” It was a statement of dangerous disapproval that Daniel let hang in the air. Thirty seconds passed. He continued as if nothing happened. “As I was saying. I wanted to let you know that I won’t be home from around 7 to about 5:30. My students-”

“Wait, you have students?” Max interrupted, glaring at him. “What do you teach, how to be insane?”

Daniel continued heedless of the interruption. “My students in psychology have a big essay coming up, so I have to stay a bit later than I usually would like. I’ll bring back some groceries today, but until then you can eat whatever is in the kitchen.”

“Aren’t you afraid that I’ll run away while you’re gone?” Max stood up on his bed, getting a few inches taller than Daniel. “I. Don’t. Like. You.”

“I’m aware.” Said Daniel. “But you won’t. No matter where you run to, Max, I can find you.” Giving Max a big smile, he picked up a computer bag from the floor and began to leave. “Oh right, I almost forgot.” He rummaged through his bag and picked up the knife that Max had taken last night. Walking back over to Max, he unsheathed it and put the sharp tip of the knife on Max’s nose. “If you want something, Max, ask.” And he swept out of the room.

A bead of sweat dribbled down Max’s face. How did he know? It would have been so easy for Daniel to grab the back of Max’s head and slam it forward at that moment, the cold metal cutting through skin and muscle. The pent up emotions of the past day released in that moment and a hot tear carved a path from his eye to his chin. It was joined by another drop, and then another one, and then another, and Max cried like he hadn’t in years. Max knew if he stayed his death would be inevitable. He needed a plan to escape.

Wiping his eyes, he thought about his options. The back and front doors would be locked without a doubt and seeing his window in the daylight showed that it would be near impossible to clamber onto the roof from there. ‘Not to mention the cameras…’ Max leaned back into bed, making a note that the escape would have to be at night and he would need Daniel’s keys.

Stepping out into the now silent house, Max smiled to himself. He had a plan and nobody was going to stop him. Not even Daniel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I know this is a few weeks late, but I've been struggling to keep up with this and my crazy schedule. I originally intended this chapter to be much much longer, but I figured I kept y'all on the ropes long enough, so here it is!
> 
> Once again, constructive criticisms are appreciated and wanted.


	5. In which Max runs away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while huh? School has taken up all of my time. I was lucky if I managed to go to sleep at around 12 a.m., often staying awake to 2 or 3. My school schedule this year is so much more than what I've had to do in the past. But enough excuses. If you read this, that means that you still stuck around despite this being many many many months late! Thank you! Let's start 2019 off right with a brand new chapter. I hope the wait will have been worth it. Please enjoy!

With each step, Max felt cold droplets of water creep down his hoodie. He couldn’t have planned it any better. Rain not only masked his trail but also his footsteps and Daniel’s sight. True, it was something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to cover for in the first place, but every plan had its kinks.  _ Damn _ it was cold. The rain had blown in so suddenly too, like the summer storms they would get at Camp Campbell. Sudden. Furious. But unlike those, this rain didn’t let up and obscured the forest world around him. The trees were looming and passive, seeming to watch the chase with a sick curiosity.

Max hissed out in pain as something sharp slid past his leg and tore away the fabric and skin. He didn’t know what it was and was too busy running to go back and see what had hit him, but the blood trickled down his leg along with the rain. It was an uncomfortable sensation of hot and cold, his leg tingling with nerves.

The trees cackled as lightning touched down in the woods somewhere. Max was unconscious of his voice yelling out in surprise at the accompanying thunderclap, only aware that the call of a psycho came right behind him.

“Oh, Max!” Daniel yelled in a sing-song voice, much too chipper. A flash of white, and Max ran faster. “I know you’re out here, Max. Give up now before I really get angry!”

The fire in his leg seemed to get worse. As he urged himself still further, he glimpsed a glimmer through the rain as lightning again lit up the sky. A lake, a river, hope, escape? Max changed course, trying his best not to fall over on the new downward slope. 

The pine needles were slick, and as the slope changed again he began to slide down, his hands getting cut in the process. A root snagged his foot and he flipped and tumbled, rolling further and further. His head was empty, full of blind panic at seeing the sky flash and the hand-like tree branches seem to reach down to grab him, heightening the adrenaline already coursing through his small frame.

Max landed with a thud at the bottom of the hill, mercifully just clear of a rock that would have, at least, knocked him out. Covered in mud and pine needles, he couldn’t breathe and had to remind himself to do so.

“Max!”

Scrambling up as fast as he could, Max fumbled toward the rock and crouched behind it, holding completely still. Daniel was starting to sound similar to David. It was a ridiculous thought. If only Rich had listened to him. If only, if only.

Max saw a flash of white at the top of the hill. His chest felt tight again as he pulled back behind the rock. Daniel continued walking down the path, like he was going on a pleasant stroll. And in his hand? The quick glare of steel.

 

* * *

 

He was prepared. Daniel had come home looking like a happy zombie, nicely and quietly asking Max for a bit of time alone. With a barely contained smirk, Max obliged, going upstairs to his room.

‘This is perfect.’ He thought. ‘Crazy is downstairs, jacking off or whatever he does to relax, and all I have to do is wait.’

About 10 minutes into the wait part of Max’s plan, Daniel started a constant stream of talking. To himself or to someone on the phone, Max didn't know, but Daniel didn't seem to be the type of person to have any friends.

Max soon tuned Daniel out and only looked up from his Game Boy when the talking stopped abruptly, coupled with the closing of a door. It sounded too far away to be Daniel’s room, so it had to be that mystery door that Max had tried last night. That meant Daniel’s room was free.

Grinning to himself, Max swung himself out of bed and grabbed his bag of things, already packed. He snuck down the stairs, hardly breathing lest he awaken some otherworldly sense in Daniel. A quick peek into the murderer’s room, prepared for the amount of knives this time. He flipped on the light switch and immediately began to look around. “C’mon, keys, keys, where are the keys…”

He looked under the bed, behind the pillow, through the single nightstand and through the drawers on the desk, behind the computer, on top of the door frame with the help of the computer chair, in the closet, and finally, without much hope, checked for loose floorboards. 

Everything else had taken so long, and Max was aware he was running out of time. The odds of Daniel stashing his keys under the floor was astronomically slim and Max highly doubted it, but he refused to believe that the keys were with Daniel. He kneeled on the ground and ran his fingers gently along, poking and prodding the nails and boards to see if any stuck out. Nothing.

With a deep sigh, Max moved to stand up and felt a sharp blow on his his head accompanied by the thump of moving wood. Cursing, he sat heavily back down and scuttled backward to see what he hit, just in time to see the lamp, in slow motion, fall and shatter on the ground.

 

* * *

 

Max let 3 minutes pass without moving, letting the rain soak into him fully. The pants leg on his left side was torn away to reveal several long scratches. He tapped the wound experimentally and felt next to nothing. That was bad. Either his adrenaline was so heightened he couldn't feel much pain or the scratches were so deep they cut through his nerves. Max didn't want to think about that last one. It didn't feel too deep, but what did he know? The only first aid Max knew was to rub dirt in the wound and how to bandage up a head, and one of those didn't even apply to this situation. He quickly scooped up some mud and slapped it on the scratches, shivering as it slid down his leg and stood up, just then realizing how tired he was.

Forcing his legs to start running again, Max wished he knew where he was or where he was going. Even a direction would be fine.

The night sky lit up again, showing once more a glittering expanse, and after spending 3 months at a lake, Max knew what one smelt like. Finally! Where there’s a lake, there’s boats, and where there’s boats, there’s oars, and if there is one thing that David drilled into Max’s head it was how to row a boat.

He ran forward, a smile growing on his face. Escape! It sounded tantalizingly good. Once he turned Daniel in, he imagined how David would look. The shock and horror and knowing what Max had been through melting into love and affection and other dadly faces. It would be perfect. A flip of the coin.

His heels slid to a stop, and Max fell on the pine bed. Rest. Something his body was desperately screaming for. Max stood, panted for a bit, then turned to the bushes and vomited. He was so thirsty and hungry. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

“Max! There is nothing out here! Come back now!”

Daniel didn’t sound so pleased anymore. The closest Max had heard Daniel to being angry before was at Camp Campbell, and that didn’t even come close. It was like hearing a dam break slowly. When the leak was first heard, death was sure to follow.

He couldn’t resist, though. With the promise of escape so close at hand, with his tracks masked, with the rain, he felt safe enough to shout, “Eat a dick, Daniel!”

He heard a flurry of footsteps and bolted, a grim smile on his face. Max had really done it now. Death or freedom, freedom or death, the end of the line was coming for him soon.

As pine turned to dirt and dirt turned to sand, Max broke the treeline with a cheer. The lake! Here it was! All he had to do was find a boat, and he was free.

Daniel didn't have a dock, but he was sure one of Daniel’s neighbors had one. As he peered out into the rain, looking for electric lights, a flash of lightning struck the lake. Nothing. In that brief span of time, Max’s hopes had been dashed. Daniel lived out in the middle of nowhere. He had no neighbors at all.

Before Max knew what he was doing, he was screaming and shouting, grabbing fistfuls of sand and pitching them into the lake. It had betrayed him! It had broken his heart and sent him to death row. All the signs pointed to it. The shitty dirt roads, the sign announcing ‘Leaving Calais’ and no sign announcing the entrance into a new town, the lack of any other cars. Stupid, silly, shitty child.

At least there was water. At least, at least. Max wiped the sand from his hands and bent down, opting for sticking his face in the water instead of bringing it to his mouth. He took several gulps and leaned back onto his hands, breathing hard. The rain really was cold.

‘I need a new plan.’ The small part of Max that hadn't given up yet thought.

‘He’s right on your tail. You’ve already screamed to the sky. Might as well insult him to the point where he kills you quick.’ The large part of Max that had completely forfeited thought.

Sudden clarity. If he could get Daniel talking, he might have a chance.

Max cupped his hands around his mouth. “DANIEL! DANIEL, YOU FUCKER, I’M OVER HERE! COME AND GET ME, DANIEL! COME AND MURDER ME, PSYCHO!”

“I’M NOT-” Daniel came into view, face twisted into an ugly scowl. “...a psycho. But you do make a compelling argument for murder.”

 

* * *

 

Max ran. There was nothing else to do. As he turned the corner and dashed up the stairs, muttering curses under his breath, he heard the mystery door slam open. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit, shit, shit….” He was trapped. The upstairs didn't have a way to get outside safely, and he needed to be out of the house right then.

“Max, I’m not angry. Come on down and let's chat, kiddo.” Daniel didn't sound angry, but Max knew the truth. How dumb did Daniel think he was?

He ran into his room and threw open the window. The outside was completely silent and dark, the oncoming rainstorm occasionally sparking thunder. The drop to the ground was at least 14 feet, more than 3 times Max’s height. Thankfully Daniel parked his van under Max’s window, and the van would provide somewhere to land. It changed the height from 14 feet to fall to only 6 feet to fall if he landed on the right part of the van.

“Alright Max, I get that you’re afraid, but I’ve said I won’t hurt you before. Come on out of your room, buddy.”

Holy shit, the man walked silently. Max had no more time. Crawling over the edge of the window, he gulped slightly as he looked down over at the drop. With him hanging out the window, the fall was lessened even more, but if he missed the van he could end up with a broken leg.

Daniel knocked on the door. “Max?”

Pulling himself up enough to look back through the window, Max yelled, “Fuck you!” And he jumped.

There was a sickening feeling of falling for a second and he heard the thump of himself hitting the roof of the van. He barely had time to think of this small victory before the door to his room squeaked open. Scrambling to the back of the van, he had just enough time to see a flash of horror and fierce anger on Daniel’s face before it smoothed itself out into a smile. Max jumped off.

He hit the ground running and dashed into the woods, unsure of where the path was to the main road. The first few drops of water hit him in the face, and as Max ran into the woods he tossed his bright red bag to the ground. He could always get more clothes once he got to David’s, and the less weight he was running with the better.

It was raining harder now. This was perfect. Max couldn't have planned it any better.

 

* * *

 

 

Max felt like it was a showdown, a child standing on one side and a murderer on the other. ‘If only I had a gun…’ 

Max tilted his head and injected as much sarcasm into his panting voice as possible. “Damn, Daniel, you look like hell.”

He did. Blood was streaked across his face and was running off in little drops, and his perfect white clothing was splattered with mud and dark pink splotches.

“So do you, Max. It’s unfortunate you threw your bag away, I’ll need to get you new clothes.” And he was smiling calmly again, like the chase had never happened, like they were chatting in the kitchen, not in the middle of the woods at night in the rain.

“I'm not fucking going back.” 

“And where are you going to go otherwise?” He took one step forward, then another, getting altogether too close. The smile cried of victory, and Daniel’s self assuredness was almost enough to drag Max’s attention away from the twirling knife held in the man’s hand. “We’re nowhere, Max! I live hours away from civilization! Who would you even go to?”

Unnerving. Terrifying. Max took several steps back, trying to hide his body’s involuntary shaking. “Wouldn’t you like to know, cult man?” Daniel raised an eyebrow. Max felt a fierce protectiveness against David flare up, and he said without thinking, “I’m not gonna let you try and kill him again.”

He clapped his hand on his mouth too late, and he mentally kicked himself as a flicker of recognition flew into Daniel’s eyes. “You mean David? You were going to go to David’s?” It started off as a chuckle and morphed into a full laugh. “Really? That was your plan? And, what, you thought I wouldn’t be able to find you again? He’s not exactly a mastermind, Max, he’d be easy to track down.”

“I was… I’m gonna turn you into the police! Can you track people in jail, asshole?” The sinking feeling of failure plummeted into Max’s chest. Congratulations. Good job. Now an efficient and prolific killer had a new target. Not only that, but the prospect of escape was getting slimmer and slimmer because Daniel was right. David was the special kind of idiot who always thought the best of people. 

If anything, Daniel’s smile got larger. Wider. Fiercer. He took 4 steps, placing Max within reach of the knife. “You think I haven’t broken out of jail before?”

It was his chance. Max dove into the lake. He thought he had known cold before? His mind was wiped blank, and he struggled to remember to hold his breath under the water. Ears popping. Pressure getting more. Cold. A quick breath in was all he needed. Anything.

Later Max would describe this experience by saying he blacked out. But he never mentioned how he felt the water rush into his lungs and how he realized that he was going to die. He never mentioned how he heard someone scream his name. Then he blacked out.


	6. In which Max is Sick.

Daniel had a new routine. Wake up, go to the kitchen, and grab the medicine. Eat a quick breakfast while grading papers. Go upstairs to that annoying kid’s room with water, the medicine, and chicken soup. Grade more papers. Go downstairs, relax. Come back up and record whatever lesson he is supposed to teach his students tomorrow. Go to sleep after checking up on Max one more time.

 

He himself wasn’t doing so well health wise, and it was currently his excuse for not being at university. A plunge into a freezing lake is a sure fire way to get a cold in his case, pneumonia coupled with the flu for Max. Knowing his students, if he told them that he was taking care of an adopted child, they would badger him to no end to get a picture of Max. Daniel chuckled. As if Max would ever consent to a picture with him.

 

Knife in hands, feet walking up the stairs. Who was he kidding? Max was so much trouble. Why did he even bother? It would be easier just to kill the little shit before he made another run for it.

 

But the opportunity. The thrill. The excitement. Every reason he took the kid in the first place.

 

“Daniel, this could be your downfall. He could ruin everything you have worked for in a split second. But…” Growling, he threw the knife into wall, watching as it quivered, stuck in the plaster. “Oh, wonderful, now I have to do house repairs.” Frustrated, he pulled the knife out and put it up. “Remember, the experiment will have been worth it.”

 

Chattering to himself had been the only way he had gotten used to living alone. At first it was just accidental, and he would smack himself to stop it. What would his mother say? But later he indulged, listening to his own singing, screaming, talking, whispering. It helped him categorize and reset.

 

Well, that and one other thing. But he had always hidden that part.

 

After the woodland chase and the subsequent revival of Max, only to have him fall in a 104 degree fever, Daniel had retrieved the red bag that Max had thrown. What was the kid thinking, throwing the only thing that had supplies to the ground? Daniel would have to engage him in something that would teach strategy. Chess maybe. Checkers if he was resistant.

 

The contents of the bag were thoroughly ruined. Sitting in the rain all night took its toll on the Game Boy and the clothes were frankly disgusting and ratty. The entire thing went into the garbage.

 

He had considered taking Max to the hospital, but that would raise questions. Questions that he couldn’t and wouldn’t answer, but answers that Max would only be too willing to give. That being said Daniel wasn’t anything if not merciful. If Max’s fever got to 105, Daniel would put him down quickly. Death by sickness, sitting supine and feeble was probably the worst way to go out.

 

It took 3 days of Max burning up before the fever went down slightly, and it took 2 more days until he finally woke up.

 

Daniel was by Max’s bed at the time, looking down at the paper he was grading. He noticed the slight movement of Max’s head, and his eyes snapped immediately to Max’s. “Oh, hello. Glad you rejoined the living.”

 

Max was silent, staring at him with undisguised fear, anger, and, possibly, some kind of curiosity.

 

“Quiet huh?” Daniel spoke slowly as he made a red line through a student’s thesis. “You’ve been asleep for about a week.”

 

“Why the fuck did you save me?” Max sat up, wincing at something. Daniel didn’t blame him. Sitting in bed for too long can end up being painful, not to mention the state his body was in after the chase.

 

“Why wouldn’t I?” This was the good part. The bit he had kept Max alive for. Hearing Max’s confusion and seeing him try to work out Daniel’s motivations was incredibly interesting, not to mention fun.

 

Max’s eyebrows came together, but before he responded a coughing fit overtook him. When he could talk again, he spat out, “You were going to kill me! Why didn’t you let me drown, that doesn’t make any sense!” He tensed in fear and let out a gasp. “You just wanted to wait until I was helpless so you could stab me without any kind of fight.” Max searched Daniel’s face for affirmation, but, getting none, steamrolled on ahead. “Fine. Whatever, I guess. Have fun, murderer!” His arms stuck out and he lowered his head, wincing. Daniel didn’t know whether or not it was because he was sore or if he was actually afraid of getting stabbed.

 

Laughing a bit, Daniel forced Max’s arms down, ignoring how he flinched at the contact. “Why would I save you to kill you? That doesn’t make any sense. Max, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have a cold and one ruined pair of clothes.” This was a terrible audience. Were his jokes really not that funny, or was Max just a spoil sport? ‘Mental note: Get better jokes. Research dad jokes? Kids like that, right?’

 

Max glared at him, rage burning just under the surface. “I can’t believe this.”

 

Daniel turned his attention back to the paper at hand, grimacing at all the grammar errors. And this person was supposed to be in college? Really, it was almost insulting. “What can’t you believe, Max?”

 

His sudden shout startled Daniel. “I don’t like you! You goddamn asshole, I don’t even want to be here! And now you’re going to kill Davi-” He dissolved into a coughing fit that forced him back into the bed. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” He muttered weakly.

 

“Language, Max.” Daniel stood. “I admit, I thought about it for a bit.” He hadn’t. It was a ruse, similar to the one he told Max that night about breaking out of jail. But if he could keep Max guessing and keep him on the ropes, it would develop a very interesting person down the line. Remember the experiment. “I decided not to. Besides, what did that guy ever do to me? Other than ruin my plans that one time. And send me to the hospital. And make me late for every other plan I had that month. Wow, thinking about it, I really do have a motivation for murder.” Max’s eyes widened. “But! I won’t. You hungry?”

 

Max looked to the side and refused to meet Daniel’s eye, giving Dan enough time to grimace before returning to the regular smile. Attention, soldier. Keep him concerned and scared, keep him in the dark, keep him thinking he’s seeing a light down the tunnel when in reality it’s faery fire, leading him deeper and deeper in. The smile was Daniel’s best tool, more useful than any knife.

 

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Daniel strolled downstairs to prepare a bowl of soup. If Daniel had to eat soup five days in a row he would be petty sick of it by then, but Max was unconscious so Daniel didn’t think that the kid had tasted any of it.

 

A sudden thought struck Daniel as he ladeled the hot soup into a bowl. “Hmm. I’m not doing so well at being a good father.” He hummed quietly. It was true. He hadn’t been acting good. The time he held a knife up to Max’s nose definitely wasn’t a fatherly thing to have done. That comment about murdering Max in the woods maybe made the kid’s actions more understandable.

 

‘You’ve been treating him like a captive. Not like your child.’ Daniel made a face. He hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t thought from Max’s point of view anyways. It had seemed like reasonable action at the time, but if Daniel had been in Max’s shoes, he absolutely would have run away. 

 

“Well…” Daniel said, looking at the soup. “Just need to pour on the sugar to regain trust.”

 

As he walked upstairs again, he opened the door and was greeted with a scream. Daniel blinked, looked behind him, looked through the window, and finally back to Max. “What?” He asked, setting the soup down.

 

“How the  _ fuck _ do you walk so silently? The door squeaks! How do you make the door not squeak!” Well, at least Max was a little more talkative than before.

 

“Practice.” Daniel said simply, offering the soup to him.

 

Max stared at the soup, then grabbed it. He sniffed. “You sure you didn’t poison this?” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah yeah, I get it, you could have murdered me any time, blah blah blah.” He took one tentative sip and resumed glaring at Daniel. “So what are you going to do to me? What possible use could you have for a… 10 year old…” Max’s eyes widened and this time so did Daniel’s. Was that really the jump the kid was going for? It turned out yes, yes it was, and Daniel had to duck as the bowl of chicken soup was chucked at him. “You sicko! You goddamn freak!”

 

“Max, what-”

 

“I’ll bite your dick off!”

 

A silence ensued. Daniel coughed awkwardly into his fist and Max stared at him, defiance burning in his eyes. “Okay, well, it seems to me that you have a few misconceptions. I would never do…  _ that _ .” His cheeks burned a bright red and the feeling of embarrassment took over. Daniel hadn’t been embarrassed in a long time. No wonder Max was fighting everything he did. “I’m… I mean, that is…. Ugh. Look Max, I might be a murderer, but I’m no pedophile.”

 

“Yeah, but you have no problem killing kids, right psycho? It’s not pedophilia if they aren’t alive!” 

 

Oh man, Max was practically asking for a stab wound at this point. Daniel didn’t like being ridiculed in the first place and Max was spectacular at running down Daniel’s last nerve. He felt the smile leave his face and Max’s triumphant one slid off almost as fast. This was ridiculous. This was stupid. Out of all the kids he could have gotten from the god-forsaken camp, why couldn’t it have been the space obsessed one? That one would have been easier to control.

 

Daniel picked up the empty bowl, staring at the splattered walls. House cleaning. White stains easily. “I’ll get you more soup.”

 

The next hour was spent with both Max and Daniel together in the room in silence. Daniel stopped smiling, a neutral expression on his face. He was getting tired of housework. ‘And you still have to record that video for your students tomorrow.’ Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out, he turned to Max, the cleaning supplies perched on his arm. “Max?”

 

The boy looked up, eyes flashing.

 

“What do I have to do to win your trust?” Daniel could use some tips. The kid was so closed off to any form of trust it was near impossible for Daniel to get close to him to mold his character.

 

“Why don’t you brainwash me like you did at camp?” Max didn’t understand, that much was obvious. At least he was still confused.

 

“Because I want you to trust me of your own free will. And those brainwashed idiots weren’t their own person. I don’t want to erase you out of this.”

 

“Why?”

 

Daniel took a second to calm himself down. It was a hard question to answer without giving everything away, and  _ wow _ Max was annoying. ‘Remember Dan, no threatening. Act like you did when you were pretending to be a camp counselor. Kind. Affectionate. You like kids. No matter what.’ A pleasant smile flitted to his lips. “Because Max, it’s much more difficult to brainwash somebody than you might think. What I did at camp was… temporary. Given a day or so it would have worn off as you got the specific toxin out of your system.”

 

Max seemed almost more relaxed when the smile came back. He still looked nervous and angry, but he was getting a feel for what Daniel’s base level was. “Wait… so you drugged us?”

 

Daniel nodded. “Right, because to completely and fully brainwash you in the sense you mean, I would need to break down your identity and your beliefs and then reinforce my beliefs as the correct ones. To do that I would be in control of everything you did every single day, like when you ate, when you went to the bathroom, when you got out of bed, when you left the room if you did at all. Assault your identity, guilt you for everything until you’re ashamed of how you look and how you eat, how you brush your teeth, everything. Wait until you’ve betrayed yourself and agreed that you’re bad, and then, when you’re undergoing a nervous breakdown, swoop in and introduce what’s needed to make it better.”

 

Max leaned backwards, eyes going to the window and back to Daniel. “...That’s fucked up.”

 

“It’s brainwashing Max, it’s not supposed to be pleasant.” Dan tilted his head to one side, letting a slight amount of concern slip onto his face as Max refused to look at him, worry creasing his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Man, I dunno… it’s just weird I guess? Because I know that you’re a goddamn murderer and psychology expert? And I know this is probably another way you’re brainwashing me because I know you are but… I’ve never had an adult talk to me this long before. David was always too busy and you met Rich. And I’m not falling for this fake happy-family bullshit you’ve got going, because frankly it sucks and I know you have ulterior motives for everything.” He laughed ruefully. “The two adults in my life who are willing to listen to me are either a complete idiot or trying to brainwash me.”

 

Daniel sighed, reached out and hand, and retracted it. He didn’t know what it was. Perhaps because he looked so similar to David, Max was just a tad more inclined to trust him than not. He could use that to his advantage. Act how David would act. “Max, I know this is hard for you to believe, especially after how I’ve been acting, but I do want you to be happy here. Rich was… bad. At parenting. I’m sure there’s something good inside him but….”

 

He tapered off, sneaking a furtive glance at Max to gauge how this new strategy was working. It wasn't a happy look but it wasn't outright hostility. Max didn't look at Daniel, staring at the blanket curled up in his fists. “Bullshit.” He said. “If that was true, you wouldn't be treating me like a prisoner. If you actually did this out of the kindness of your heart, you would have turned me over to David, or hell, I would have accepted just turning Rich in! He’s done so many other illegal things-”

 

“And I haven't?” Daniel asked. “Max, I cannot get close to the police. Or any kind of authority really. My whole thing of ‘ignoring your conscience’ does come with a few downsides. And David… I’m still mad at David. I don't want to... do something rash. Especially since you seem to care about him a lot.”

 

“No I fucking don't!” It was amusing how quick Max betrayed himself. He spluttered for a second and crossed his arms. “He could drop dead for all I care. I just…” Max’s volume lowered and Daniel had to discreetly pinch himself in the leg to keep from snickering. “...Don’t want him to drop dead right now.” 

 

Max settled back into his pillows and it seemed he was fighting exhaustion. Dan frowned slightly. He was running out of vacation days and couldn't baby Max much longer. Thankfully the weekend was coming up soon, but the thought of murdering Max still clung to the forefront of his mind. It would be easier. So much easier.

 

“Get some rest, Max.” He stood up, thought for a second, and then placed a key from his pocket on Max’s nightstand. At the kid’s questioning look, Daniel shrugged with a smile. “It’s a key to the backdoor. You were right, I have been treating you like a prisoner. You can go outside, but don't stray from the path. Not sure you would survive the next escape attempt.”

 

As Daniel winked, Max felt a chill go up his spine. He had learned the last time. He would not survive either because the elements got to him or Daniel ran out of patience. He wasn't sure which would be worse.

 

Daniel turned to leave, soup bowl in a hand. He stopped by the door. “Oh, and Max?” His face seemed to stretch back further than should be possible in a maniacal looking smile. All vestiges of his David persona were gone and Max was forcefully plunged into reality once more. Plunged. A brief remembrance of drowning. He shivered.

 

“Don’t go into the basement. That's the one rule. It would be a shame to have to…. Well.” His footsteps barely made a sound as he receeded into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm, what's this? Another chapter, so soon after the last? It's nice to not have to wait an entire year for the next one, right?
> 
> I'm going to try a new style of writing for the next chapter, so look forward to that! As a hint, I've been reading a lot of Stephen King lately.
> 
> As always, criticisms and witticisms are welcomed and encouraged.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an RP, but I enjoyed it so much that I figured I might as well share it with you, albeit some changes to make it more readable. I'll attempt to update once a week.
> 
> Constructive criticisms are helpful and wanted.


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